"My enemy," replied her son. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. It doesn’t matter. "Certain. And yet I know not—for the object of his visit here to-night was to serve Jack, who, if your statement is correct, which I cannot however for a moment believe, does not deserve his assistance.
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